


Lorne's Team: The Early Missions

by mandykaysfic



Series: Lorne's Team [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandykaysfic/pseuds/mandykaysfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parrish fills out the spreadsheets for Lorne's Team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lorne's Team: The Early Missions

The first mission was a piece of cake. The Challesians were known for their glass. Lorne's team made nice with the Senior Minister for Trade and Atlantis ended up with a regular supply of medical quality glassware in exchange for antibiotics. Dr Beckett murmured Scottish lovewords to the beakers, test-tubes and pipettes, while Parrish noted the pleasing symmetry of the items traded as he filled in the first columns on their spreadsheet. 

They also scored a gross of fine crystal wine glasses after Coughlin took up the challenge to break a pair of Challesian glasses without physically touching them. He warmed up with a selection from his favorite operas, incidentally attracting an appreciative crowd, and then hit a sustained note that Parrish recorded at 556 Hz and 105 decibels, satisfactorily shattering the glasses without touching them. Most people threw stones or shot them explained the Senior Minister later, when Coughlin was publicly presented with an intricately etched statuette and an invitation stay and perform again. Score one for the team's final training session and the filling out of McKay's pre-mission spreadsheets. If they hadn't known Coughlin could sing, Lorne probably would have shot them like everyone else. (Nobody had to take off their clothes.)

The second mission involved rescuing Sheppard's team. Parrish created a new column on his spreadsheet. After much deliberation, he left off the smiley face and color-coded it purple instead. The main casualties were a few rips and tears in their clothing. (Lorne's team otherwise remained completely clad.)

Parrish almost regretted opening his mouth at the fateful final 'training session' when the third mission to P3R-863 required, at the natives' most earnestly worded behest, the removal of all body hair before entry into the monastery-equivalent. But Lorne reminded him that he'd said he was willing to do it, particularly when samples of plants with medicinal properties were on the line. It wasn't strictly fair when Parrish was the second hairiest member of the team. It should have been Reed, who rejoiced in a smooth-skinned back and chest along with sparsely covered arms and legs, volunteering for that one. Coughlin's pecs fitted the description of ‘lightly dusted’ while Lorne owned their team's title of hairiest, almost giving Sheppard a run for his money. Parrish's own chest hair was coarse and curly, as was the patch on the small of his back. He flashed back to his eighteenth year, when there had been at least one party where he'd shown off his ability to produce a razor-sharp part in the wetted hair on his shins. As the local acolytes carefully removed all his hair (including his eyebrows) with rather large razors, Parrish wondered at the propensity of gods and/or goddesses who found body hair offensive. The itching in unmentionable places some days later was worth it however, when the distilled oils from one sample were found to have a similar effect to morphine, while another proved an effective antifungal agent. Other herbs ended up in the kitchen, so it was all good. (No bodily fluids were involved in the trade and everyone else had remained fully dressed.)

The fourth mission turned out to be the one they'd been dreading. They'd really rather have rescued Sheppard's team again, but Stackhouse's team scored the points for that contretemps. However, some deity heard their prayers and they performed a flawless rescue of Sheppard's team on their fifth time through the gate. (Another tick in the purple _Rescue_ column: Lorne's team – 2, Sheppard's team – 0. He wasn't keeping records for Stackhouse; their motto wasn't _anything_ Stackhouse's _Team can do, Lorne's Team can do better_! Sheppard's team ended up shirtless; Lorne's team had gotten a little dirty but kept their shirts on. Parrish considered adding another column. State of dress at conclusion of mission. In orange.) 

It, the fourth mission, could have been worse. It didn't score a ten on the freak-o-meter (ratings subject to change without notice) devised by primarily Coughlin although all four of them had made contributions. The freak-o-meter was more a measure of embarrassment rather than torture. A nine ran along the lines of one or more team members taking part in public, embarrassing, kinky sex with strangers, (with the remainder of the team arrayed in whacky costumes cheering them on) that was somehow recorded and sent back to Atlantis. Parrish would have only rated that a six, on the grounds that he had vague memories of personal project from the second year of his Botany degree. He and his friends had been hoping to be taken on by one of the large drug companies when they qualified and had been working on an off-campus project involving medicinal aspects of marijuana. There'd been this one particular cross-bred strain – fungal alkaloids may have been involved, or maybe not - that they'd invited several of their friends to test. There was possibly video evidence of the results of that test still in existence that closely matched the team's criteria for an 'f-o-m 9', but he was quite happy to go with the majority vote on the rating. A 9.5 involved Pegasus aardvark-equivalents. Incidents involving tentacles mostly rated a ten. 

They'd arrived on P4R-552 right in time to join in the Harvest festival. Except that the Iartians weren't celebrating a bountiful harvest. They were praying for a successful planting and growing season and started their crops in a ritualistic fashion. Parrish filled in _Name of Contact person/s_ : Pershall, _Title_ : Elder. He did a comparative scan of McKay's spreadsheets and nodded to himself. It was the simplistic ones that got you, every time. Graven High Lord Marsden Dans J'Aden of the Royal Order of the Keepers of the Holy Relics, Mars for short, had been more than happy to share a simple cup of local tea and a complicated handshake with Sheppard's team.

Elder Pershall had explained they were unable to commence trade talks until after the Ceremonial Meal and Blessing of the Seedlings to which that Major Lorne and company were welcome and their participation in the Blessing would count most favorably. The Ceremonial Meal was at High Sun and the Blessing involved planting a number of seedlings into specially decorated pots. This was the men’s' ceremony, it was carefully explained. The women’s' ceremony took place two weeks later. No animals were involved: check. No spilling of blood was involved: check. No virgins or otherwise were to be sacrificed: check. The men involved simply had to sow as many plants as they were able. Trade talks could commence a short while after the last man had finished. Lorne decided they had a go. Parrish later blamed himself for being so enthusiastic. After all, it seemed like a mission made for a team that had a botanist.

The Ceremonial Meal began with a cup of spicy tea, sipped in measured amounts at the end of each verse in the Prayer to the Goddess of Nature. The spirits of the rain, wind, sun and earth each had a course of the meal dedicated to their bounty. A smaller cup of tea was consumed to honor each one. Parrish thought uneasily of 'watering' his mother's lemon trees, but Elder Pershall had said planting and really, the total volume of liquid served was not excessive. Besides, use of the facilities hadn't been restricted. He gave his mind to the conversation of the person next to him, a young woman studying the native varieties of corn and her efforts to increase the yield and disease resistance.

A gong sounded twice and as one, all of the women and a number of men left the room. Allish, Parrish's Meal companion fluttered her eyelashes and promised to look out for him later before scurrying off with the others. Fifteen men in addition to Lorne's team remained. 

Elder Pershall raised his hands in supplication and once more asked the Goddess of Nature to bless their crops. He then pleaded for the good health of the sowers, begging for strength of body and that it be shared among their guests as well as her devotees. The men formed a line, Lorne's team falling in on the end where indicated. They moved steadily forward, each taking a folded cloth handed to him by Pershall and then standing off to the side. The material proved to be a fine linen robe, embroidered with individual patterns of fanciful vines, fruits and flowers. Parrish's mouth twisted when the men began stripping. From the corner of his eye he saw Reed and Coughlin exchange resigned looks. Lorne raised his eyebrows and made a moue in Parrish's direction before beginning to undress. Parrish sighed and bent to untie his shoes. Naked, or near naked gardening. They really should have guessed.

Near naked ended up being an accurate assessment as the front of the robes turned out to be two strips of material, mere inches wide. They certainly did not meet in the middle. Nor was there anything resembling ties. The robes gaped open and flared out behind them as they walked single file to another building, keeping time as Pershall chanted and the men murmured a refrain. Lorne's team kept pace easily enough but remained silent.

Tiers of flowering plants in decorated pots lined the entranceway to a glass-walled conservatory. A third of the length down from the back wall, a knee-high bench, draped in more of the embroidered cloth, spanned almost the width of the room. Pershall led them to stand behind it, taking the centre position while the rest split left and right. Coughlin and Lorne took the last two places on the left, while Parrish and Reed went to the right. Pairs of attractive young men and women entered; they carried trays of seedlings and clay pots and were dressed in little more than a few strips of the ubiquitous embroidered linen. 

For the edification of their new friends and trading partners, Pershall detailed the steps to be taken for the ritual. Reed stared straight ahead, refusing to catch Parrish's eye, until the couples stationed in front of each participants undid their linens, allowing them to drop to the floor, and joined the men behind the tray-covered bench. 

A strangled exclamation escaped Reed's lips. “Oh my God! Oh, God. They're _fluffers_!” 

“Huh?” Parrish glanced down at the girl, who was indeed Allish, naked and kneeling at his feet. Her fair-headed companion had already begun gently petting the hair on Parrish's belly. He trembled as cool fingertips explored, stroking his hip and poking teasingly into his bellybutton.

“You know. From pornos. They got the stars ready.” Reed moved to lock his hands behind his back, but the young man in front of him held out a clay pot with one hand as he fondled Reed's knee with the other. He took it and mumbled something under his breath as he poked at the moist soil within.

“David? Dr Parrish?” Allish tried to get Parrish's attention. She tugged on his hand. “Here, David. You must begin.”

Parrish glanced to his left. The man next to him had his first seedling in its pot and, already fully erect thanks to his assistants, _fluffers_ his mind now insisted, was preparing to fertilize it in ritualistic fashion. 

 

The tea must have aphrodisiac properties, he thought some time later as his hands automatically prepared a hole in the dirt of yet another pot and then settled the next seedling in place. He'd fertilized four seedlings already with Allish and Darian's more than competent help, but he could feel his energy waning as he contemplated the fifth. The sounds and scent of sex hung heavily in the room and when he took a deep breath, his knees reflexively buckled. He sagged against Darian, currently supporting him from behind. The fertilization process had to be performed standing and after four orgasms, Parrish wanted nothing more than to cry enough and sleep for a week. But the honor of Atlantis, along with the future trade possibilities, was at stake and he didn't want to be the first to finish. Gratefully, he took the cup of tea Allish pressed into his hand. The brief respite was enough for him to take in the fact Reed had completed six, six, pots and was now lying down with his eyes closed, signalling he was done. His neighbour to his left had managed to fertilize five seedlings before joining his assistants on the floor. That spurred Parrish to straighten up. With one hand he raised the cup of tea and gulped the contents; he vaguely waved the other between his groin and Allish's face. She smiled up at him and took his hardening cock into her mouth once more. The tea worked its magic and he soon successfully fertilized seedling number five. 

Lorne proved his worthiness as team leader and equalled the top performing Iartian and they were invited to attend the ritual the following year when their treaty would be up for renewal. Pershall indicated further trade concessions would be made should any of their women wish to participate in two weeks time and the Lanteans parted on good terms with their new allies.

Back in his room, Parrish checked all the columns of their spreadsheet were completed. Appendix II contained a couple of sketches by Major Lorne of the ritual robe; Appendix I spelled out the details of the ritual. The time of contract re-negotiation was highlighted. Dr Weir had refused to send any of the female members of the expedition to participate in the second ritual, so he made sure the explanatory note mentioned the lack of details for the women's requirements, should there be any reason for them to visit during that time. (The orange column read: Fully dressed. Clothing intact. Semen as plant fertilizer was entered into the _Bodily Fluids Exchanged_ column.)

They were doing okay, Parrish reflected, and then groaned. If that simply wasn't asking for trouble, and he wondered what the Pegasus galaxy would throw at them next.

END


End file.
